


The Thought That Counts

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Drugged Neal Caffrey, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Series, Pre-Threesome, Propositions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third time Neal showed up at El’s house drugged out of his tree, Peter wasn’t home.  (Post-series; slightly AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherylyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherylyn/gifts).



> Many thanks to mergatrude for beta.

The third time Neal showed up at El’s house drugged out of his tree, Peter wasn’t home. 

“Elizabeth! Good to see you,” Neal said, slowly and indistinctly. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy, and under his coat, his sweater was inside out. “Merry Christmas.”

“Neal, are you all right?” she said. “You know, Peter’s not here.”

“I know.” Neal nodded, then blinked rapidly. “Interrogating Murdoch. I wanted to talk to you.”

At least, that was what she thought he was trying to say. “You’d better come in.” She grabbed his sleeve and tugged, and he nearly toppled over but steadied himself on the doorjamb just in time. “Smells good.”

“That’s the Christmas tree.” El shepherded him to the couch and gave him a gentle shove, and he folded up and sat down with a slight bounce. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Going on past experience, this was probably something that would pass with time and sleep, and leave Neal with a hideous hangover, but there was always the possibility that it was more serious this time. Poison or something. 

“If you don’t tell me, I’m calling an ambulance.” She couldn’t take him to the hospital herself without waking the baby, and she really didn’t want to do that. 

“No, I’m fine, it’s Moz’s Christmas present,” mumbled Neal. “He’s still mad about the con.”

The con where Neal had faked his own death and put everyone who cared about him through the wringer for six weeks, before showing up in New York again as if nothing had happened. 

“He’s not the only one,” said El. They were all a bit prickly, but Mozzie wouldn’t endanger Neal. No doubt he’d just wanted to teach him a lesson.

“’Sjust a stimulant and a disinhibitor,” said Neal. “Something like that. Tasted like cough syrup. He wanted me to sign a pledge. Criminal manifesto. Listen, Elizabeth—”

He broke off and cocked his head, as if hearing police sirens in the middle of a heist, but there was only the soft sound of Christmas music playing on the stereo, faint sleepy gurgling through the baby monitor, and a car passing in the street outside. Neal rubbed his hands up and down his thighs and refocused on her. 

“Elizabeth. I just, I want to volunteer,” he said. 

“For what?” If this was another offer of babysitting, it was far from his most reassuring one—and he still hadn’t convinced Peter he was reliable enough to be entrusted with their son, after his disappearing act.

“Just, you know, if you ever want to watch Peter with another man,” said Neal earnestly.

“ _What?_ “

“Sophisticated woman like you, must have thought about it. Hot, right? I’m just saying, I’m available—should the need arise.” Neal frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, can I have a glass of water?”

El shook her head in disbelief and went to the kitchen. When she got back with water and some Advil, Neal was already asleep. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. “Neal?” But he didn’t stir, so she pulled a blanket over him and took off his shoes. No, his slippers. He’d come all this way in slippers.

She lifted his head and shoved a cushion under it, and he let out a deep unconscious sigh. Then she paused and studied him. Whatever stunts he’d pulled over the last couple of months, he was still Neal. Still too handsome for his own good. She brushed the bangs from his sweaty forehead. 

“No,” she said, answering him, even though he was fast asleep now. “I don’t need emotionally messed-up sexcapades for titillation, thank you very much. I have a perfectly functioning imagination.” One which had shown her that very scenario—Peter and Neal making love together—more than once. She patted his shoulder. “You’re going to need a better sales pitch, babe.”

He started snoring, and she laughed and softened. It was a measure of how hopeless Neal believed his chances that he’d framed his offer in such a way, and approached her rather than Peter directly—and that it had taken a drugging for him to do so. Neal was normally sure of himself, but his feelings for Peter had undermined his good sense on many an occasion—and the reverse was also undeniably true. They were as hopeless as each other. Perhaps it was time El gave them a nudge.

She grinned. She could start by relaying Neal’s very generous offer—she could just imagine Peter’s reaction! At least they were all thinking along similar lines. The boys would get there eventually.

And truth be told, she really _did_ want to watch.

 

END


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